Awareness is a Drug that Cannot be Denied
by stormsandsins
Summary: Chuck realised that he didn’t know this Blair, carefree Blair, who enjoyed herself without constant fear of repercussions. With that thrilling thought in mind, he drank his sparkling wine, keeping the image of the stranger on stage burned into his retinas
1. Awareness is a Drug that Can't be Denied

**Author's note**: My second GG fic. I think I have a thing for "missing moments" with these two, hope you don't mind ;) This time my brain picked the limo scene.

All right, that said, this isn't for kids. Sex isn't something I write lightly. It's sensual, not mindless porn, but fairly smutty. Much of this fandom is younger than I am (I'm seven days older than Ed haha), so you've been warned and don't come crying.

* * *

**AWARENESS IS A DRUG THAT CANNOT BE DENIED**

Blair shucked her prim and proper dress, revealing a pale beige shift underneath that showed all the curves her previous accoutrement hadn't before.

Amazing how he didn't even look at her moves or her state of undress at first, but her eyes… They came alive, mischievous, uninhibited, _free_. Many traits she liked to front and one she even excelled at – mischievousness, or more especially, deviousness – but rarely, if ever, displayed all together as it was in that moment. The show itself was certainly alluring, but it was her eyes that truly had him standing to his feet, leaning and yet holding back.

For the first time she was utterly bare, daring that which she constantly refused herself for fear of being lessened in others' eyes. she might be Queen B, scheming bitch extraordinaire, she took insane care to keep the slate of her reputation clean at all times.

Chuck realised then and there that he didn't know this Blair, carefree Blair, Blair who enjoyed herself without constant fear of repercussions. With that thrilling thought in mind, he drank his sparkling wine, keeping the image of the stranger on stage burned into his retinas, and saluted her guts, her sexy shift, but most of all her glowing face as she held his eyes with a low glimmer of "told you so" burning within.

_Where have you been all your life?_ he wondered in awe.

#

How Chuck found himself with Blair wrapped around him, he didn't know. Hadn't even planned it to begin with, for all his usually smoothly calculated playtimes with partners chosen at random. As he found himself dragging the strap of her _négligée _down her shoulder, however, his thumb skidded and stroked over her smooth, creamy skin and he didn't care that there was nothing planned to this. Blair's little mewling sounds penetrated the haze of sensations in his mind like nothing else as he licked his way up the column of her throat. The soft abrasion of her nails on his neck and scalp had him shivering and responding with a harsh exhale into her hair.

He could pretend all he liked that he was the teacher here for her benefit, but he'd be fooling himself if he believed the lie. Control had slipped through his fingers the moment she'd become her own burlesque show and she'd embraced a different light. For him?

Chuck clamped on her thigh, drawing her sharp intake of air into his lungs like he needed air to breathe. She shifted closer into him yet, her breasts flattened into his chest and her lower body cradling his lap, and it was all he could do to swallow his groan.

"Chuck…" she murmured, eyes rolling back as she ground her hips into him again. Chuck caught his breath and dug his fingers into her naked flesh underneath the pool of silky material that covered her hips.

With a whoosh of air, he reached higher and stopped her rocking motions even as the rest of his blood packed its bags and headed south. "Slow down," he rasped in a throaty rush that he didn't recognise as his voice. In an attempt at regaining some semblance of his senses, he pressed his head back into the plush leather of his seat and took a shaky breath. Again, a shocker. Chuck Bass never took a breather; Chuck Bass plunged headlong without care for anyone else but himself.

Blair's lips left a moan and a hot, wet trail down his throat, doing nothing for his blood. "Please…" And it was the genuine need in her voice, unlike the countless acts he'd heard before, that did it. As well as her fumbling fingers that tried to get at him underneath the impeccable blazer and dress shirt. Trembling, uncoordinated, whispers on his skin, and he'd never felt these kinds of shivers that ran so deep in his blood.

So he helped her, humbled, and undid his buttons with their fingers bumping into each other. When they were done, she slid her hands over the light dusting of dark hairs on her way to his shoulders, and she kissed him again with a sigh. Silk brushed over his bare skin, warm and supple like the skin her caressed underneath. Suddenly she gasped, stilling over him like a deer in headlights. Chuck slanted his mouth over hers, coaxing her tongue. Then he slipped his hand beneath her luscious panties, cupping her, merely cupping her, until she grew accustomed to his gradual intrusion of her intimacy.

Finally, her thighs stopped quivering jerkily and she sighed again, meeting his mouth before taking the initiative this time – shocking him once more into amazement – and pulling her shift over her head. Unconsciously his hand tightened over her folds, and he nearly moaned when he felt some of her slickness rushing onto his fingers.

God, you'd think he was a bumbling virgin.

Blair moved her hips, and with much effort on his part he pulled his hand out of her panties and looked at her face. _Mistake_. Need poured out of her in spades, in her slightly parted mouth, in her disappointed frown, in her closed eyes.

"Blair," he said. "Blair, look at me." He didn't want to scare her, wanted her to know what was going on at all times.

Her big brown eyes opened again, and the begging in them arrested him for a moment. Lost in them, he pulled her in for a quick kiss that shook him with its white-hot intensity, then reached down for his belt. Blair's eyes followed the movement. She bit her lip, and suddenly he _did_ feel as nervous as his first time.

Then she was helping him pull his pants down past his hips. And stared, clad only in her panties. "I…" Anxiety seeped into that one syllable before he met her wide eyes and gently pulled her back on his lap.

"It'll be fine, baby," he assured her before once more slanting his mouth over hers. "Do you trust me?"

For mere answer, she positioned herself where she would fit him, the butter-soft material of her undergarment whispering on him. Eyes rolling back into his head at the sheer erotic sensation she probably hadn't intended on his part, his hands slid of their own volition onto her hips, then dragged under the material onto her bare cheeks. Blair melted into his arms, her breasts pressing onto his slightly bristly chest and adding to the pure _torture_ she had no idea she was affecting on him.

"These need to go," he rumbled in her ear, referring to the last scrap of material on her person.

"Mm," she purred back, and let him peel it off her. Her eyes then widened a fraction as realisation seemed to set in. "This'll hurt," she said. It wasn't a question. They'd all been through the same excruciating health classes that basically scared pretty much everyone off sex.

"I'll go slow," Chuck promised, not sure where the assurance was coming from. "No," he added when she made to lie down on the seat next to him. He held her still over his lap. "You'll have control this way."

That said, he skimmed his hand down her body again, slithering against her folds, and then slid it between them. Watching Blair's head loll to the side, Chuck took the opportunity to snake a hand around her, pulling her breast to his mouth. This time she did more than moan. Head thrown back in abandon, she cried out at the sensory overload.

"Ready?" She nodded, anxiety returning a fraction. "Relax, baby, I don't want to hurt you. Relax," he coaxed again, swirling his finger over her tight nub and kissing her nipple to a peak. "Good…" he murmured to himself.

Positioning himself, Chuck watched Blair's face as she lowered her body, inch by agonising inch: concentration, deep listening, lips parted on a long sigh, then a soft gasp.

"Relax," he breathed again, then brought her in for a kiss, and closed his eyes resolutely before jerking her home. He swallowed her anguished cry, suffered her tight throbbing walls, and peppered her lips with butterfly kisses that slowly, slowly calmed her.

There were tears in her eyes as she gazed at him and began moving, tentatively at first. Her breaths soon quickened, though, hot on his neck as she purred and pressed herself completely against him. Chuck felt every slide of skin against skin and in and out so clearly, so defined and unique all their own, that soon he held on for dear life and… let himself go as surely as he never had before. What was refined technique and smooth moves when your skin electrified and lit up at once?

Breathing hard, Chuck lay back boneless against his seat. Blair rocked over him still, her hands deep into his hair as he leisurely kissed what skin she offered him. Her face, her lips, her neck. "I want you, baby," he whispered into her ear huskily, voice gone for the moment. "Won't you come for me?"

Blair's eyes hooded and she moaned before he took her mouth with his, pressed two fingers where she needed them, and had her crashing and burning for him.


	2. Awareness is an Addicting Drug

**Author's note**: I _never_ thought I'd keep this fic going. It was supposed to be just a oneshot to sate my curiosity of what exactly happened when Blair lost her virginity. But now... who the hell knows if I'll be inspired to write more haha. These bunnies just nip out of nowhere!

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**PART TWO**

_In time you will learn there is nothing best  
It's amazing, this changing you_

_- Princess One Point Five, With Light There is Hope_

Chuck breathed in deep and felt something in him crack. Felt its aftershock all through his body in a sluggish action-reaction that registered slowly, as though he were in a drugged-out haze. And yet he felt it all so clearly. Felt Blair's soft curls rasp featherlight between his fingertips, her warm curves wrapped skin-tight around him in every way possible, her soft breaths fanning the crook of his neck, her fingers deliciously light on his scalp.

If he so much as moved a limb or talked, Chuck was sure the moment would shatter. He wasn't certain he wanted it to. So he breathed, and in the dimness of the night outside the limousine, he committed memories to mind – textures soft and slick and not, sounds whimpered and cried, breaths and rosy cheeks and bitten lips – realising only belatedly that Chuck Bass did not file fucks to be replayed later.

The fingers stroking Blair's hair suddenly halted their absent course.

Her head stirred, warm breath and long free hair tickling his neck. His entire body tensed as hers moved languidly over his. Then she purred contentedly, and Chuck held his breath and clenched his eyes shut.

Her lethargic shifting over him brought sensations back into sharp focus, and he felt himself grow hard again. He was still cradled within her, the slick result of her climax coating her walls around the condom he had no recollection of even slipping on. "God," he bit out in a rush of breath. Amazing was probably more precise.

Amazing… how she'd looked over him, flush-faced and passion rolled into the dark, _free_ beauty that she'd become in those instants and even now. Amazing… that he'd been the first to ever _see_ her. And her trust in him. That thing in his chest swelled with… he wasn't sure. Pride, he thought.

Blair, sensing him hardening again, shifted, taking his breath away as she ground her lush body into him with another purr. "Mm…"

Chuck's eyes rolled into his head at the sweet torture. "Blair," he rasped out, voice gone huskier than usual. "I need…" Scrabbling for his pants, his hand trembled as he finally produced a foil packet. "I need to change my…" He wouldn't take chances, with her less than with any whore.

Her eyes locked onto the wrapped condom in his hand, then on his eyes. Need poured out of her in droves, newfound power and sexuality, and he'd be a liar if those were the biggest aphrodisiacs. They weren't, and yet he couldn't put his finger on what was. It escaped him, just like the primal growl from his throat when Blair raised herself off his lap, her sweat-slicked thighs a missed weight.

She hugged her knees to her chest as she sat a few inches away, her gaze on him. It was another thing he felt acutely, curiosity and sensual interest mingling to make his skin tingle like it never had before. He was used to the sexual attention. Paid whores looked their fill, and took it, quite literally, but Blair… Blair was all innocence and discovery, a presence he knew and didn't at once, and untarnished by calculated moves and jaded bitterness. She was a damn inspiration he… he probably didn't deserve.

Blair watched him slip the used condom off and the new one on, and even finished rolling it on for him. When she was done, her hand brushed over him, as though uncertain where to go from here.

Heart drumming a tattoo in his chest, Chuck closed the space between them, pushing her to her back on the seat even as he deepened the kiss. "How d'you feel?" he asked as he settled next to her on his side, a hand flattened over her lower belly to stroke its silky smoothness.

Blair arched into his touch, sighing delicately before seeking his mouth. "Good," she murmured against his mouth, biting her lips when his hand grazed a nipple and then closed over it. "Chuck…"

He grudgingly left her breath to veer south. "Does it still hurt?" he whispered as one of his fingers slid into her moist heat, tearing a moan out of her. "I won't if it does…" It would be the hardest thing he'd ever have to do but…

She grasped his wrist, keeping him in when he would have retreated. "No. Please."

Pure. Need. Chuck captured her lips, pulling out just enough to swirl her juices around and over her tight nub. She mewled, crying out when he kissed a breast and licked, mimicking the movement of his finger over her folds. His name floated in his ears, and he thought she might have called it before when she'd been in the throes of her climax, but he couldn't be sure. The sound, however, drove him with its pure novelty. Even paid whores didn't care. Bodies. Just bodies. But Blair…

"Chuck, _please_."

Chuck slid an arm under her head, drawing Blair's mouth closer. Then he lifted a thigh over his hip to bring her lower body flush against his erection.

As he might have expected, she tensed as she realised the new position he'd put her in that she might never have thought could work. Or perhaps in wide-eyed uncertainty. He'd bet both. "I don't know–"

Chuck cut her off with a sweeping kiss. "I swear you'll feel good, Blair. Do you trust me?" he asked. Throwback to earlier. Didn't understand why her answer mattered so much to him, as it had back then.

Completely lucid eyes took in his, and he saw the indecision warring with curious sensuality in her face. She bit her lip, then nodded, and her body relaxed a fraction underneath his fingertips.

Chuck positioned himself, breaking eye contact only when she did. She watched as he stroked her slick nub with his thumb while he slowly slid in. When he had filled her, he looked up. Her mouth was parted slightly, her eyes hooded, and when she caught his eye she smiled, but most of all she glowed, even with her hair in a wild disarray and a light sheen of sweat on her skin that was wholly uncharacteristic for Blair.

"How's this?" he asked, brushing back a lock off her cheek.

Her tongue darted out to moisten her pink lips. "Good," she whispered.

Chuck smiled, and even he felt it was a ghost of his usual smirk. "Gets better," he whispered back smugly before retreating slightly and then inching slowly back in.

"I hope it does," she breathed on a little grin, reaching up to tug his face closer.

Chuck set a slow, langorous pace, feeling it appropriate after her explosive first time. She deserved that much. Not to mention that he had no idea what he was doing at the moment. A second round? Talk about playing the game of "I never". It boggled the mind, it really did. "Or what?" He smirked, glad to have at least the familiar banter to fall back on. This intimacy felt too strange, although…

"Or I'll be very disappointed in you," she said playfully. "All that experience and yet… can't even get a virgin off?" She shook her head in mock-chagrin. "Failure, Chuck, huge failure."

Chuck's mouth twisted in amusement. "Well, I don't exactly have experience in that department, princess, but practise makes perfect, right?"

Her smile slipped off as he stroked deeper into her. Clutching his wrist, she bit off a moan and tightened her walls around him in reflex. It felt to Chuck like she wanted him to stay in forever. "Right," she bit out.

They were silent a moment, a silence that stretched delicately, as Chuck explored her body, the soft skin, everything he'd missed on the first go in her – _their_ – hurry. Spanning a breast with one hand, Chuck tasted the other leisurely, enjoying Blair's tiny, genuine sigh of pleasure. Then he watched her face as his hand touched her where they joined. "How's this?" he asked huskily again, kissing her slightly parted lips when she sought his mouth.

"Good," she replied, arching and clutching his arm tight enough to leave half-moon nail marks.

He kissed her jaw. "Touch yourself." It was more a request than a demand, but then he'd never really had to ask before.

Her eyes snapped open. "W – what?"

Chuck laced his fingers through hers. "Trust me, Blair." Then he brought their hands down her tightly-strung body, featherlight over her, and he felt her resist only half-heartedly. In her eyes he saw the re-emergence of curiosity taking over the primness. "Touch yourself," he repeated softly, letting her reach out by herself.

She sought the place where they were joined, a shiver coursing through him at the double sensation of her light fingers and her tight channel around him. "You feel good," she said softly, biting her lip bashfully afterward.

Chuck felt like replying something cocky like "of course I do" but instead urged her softly. "Go on."

Her walls fluttered soft as butter around him when she swirled a finger around her clit. Small shocks racked her body as she pleasured herself, mewls swallowed by Chuck's kiss even as he fondled her breast.

"Told you so," he breathed when her second climax of the night wore off several moments later. Then he drew out of her amidst her moaned protests, only to settle himself between her legs and sliding back in on one long stroke. "'m not done with you yet."

Panting in renewed anticipation, Blair locked her arms and legs around him in an effort to draw him in deeper. Rocking to meet his slow pace, she smiled through her clearing haze of pleasure. "Good. Me neither."

Chuck felt his chest crack for the second time that night, and this time something pulsated in there like it was on speed. The feeling was completely alien to Chuck so he… froze for a second and chose to ignore it. Drove on into Blair whose small whimpers rang clear in his ears and whose nails now dug into his scalp. Ignored the damn feeling.

Except it wouldn't be ignored. It fluttered, fluttered and, coupled with Blair's cries and her newly shuddering walls, all finesse and smooth thrusts deserted him for the second time that night. "Oh God," he bit out suddenly, rocking wildly until he simply gave in to the sensations and the burning heat that milked him and clutched him within and without.

Letting go still ranged amongst one of the scariest things he'd ever done. Probably _the_ scariest. But the mind-numbing orgasm crashed through him again and he welcomed the exhilaration knowing this time around that it was… just fine.


	3. Awareness is a Bitter Pill

**Author's note**: Well, can't be surprised I'm updating this. I love this fic. So there. Buuuut, this is a different sort of chapter. I've renamed chapter two to what I'd originally called it (_Awareness is an Addicting Drug_) and now here we have...

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**PART THREE : AWARENESS IS A BITTER PILL**

Quiet. Steady breaths. His own. Another. Soft locks, even softer curves, and a velvety heat sheathing him to the hilt. Warm hands stroking, delicately exploring the ridges of his spine and the planes of his back.

Chuck arched back, unconsciously driving deeper into… Blair.

"Mm…" she moaned as Chuck scrambled to his hands, and then she rolled her hips instinctually. It undid him.

She was barely even awake anymore, her eyes mere slits and her movements sluggish in her satiation and languor. A small, satisfied smile played on her lips, and when she stroked down his sensitised back to where he lay nestled between her legs, she sighed imperceptibly and then shut her eyes completely.

"Blair," Chuck called gently, palming her cheek in an attempt to waken her.

She did, yawning even as she turned her face into his palm to follow his movement. "What?" she asked in a sleep-husky murmur. He felt the word through his body as her breath left her lips.

"We need to get you home," Chuck said valiantly as every fiber in his being suddenly revolted the thought. Well… he pulled out, ignoring the soft sounds of protest she made when his already half-erect penis left her. "Come on, you're falling asleep on me here."

"No… just one more minute…" she said feebly as he pulled her up to a sitting position.

One-handed, Chuck scoured the floor to retrieve her silk shift, yet as it flowed between his fingers, just like cool liquid, Chuck brought his eyes up to the girl who'd worn the modest but terribly seductive scrap of clothing.

She was suddenly completely awake, staring back at him as he held it aloft, between the acts of raising it and slipping it over her. And at that moment, precisely, Blair realised that she was utterly naked under his heated gaze, in more ways than one. She swallowed around a large knot in her throat.

God, he was a stranger – not the Chuck Bass she'd thought she knew everything and all of his incartades about during her entire life, or so it seemed. This Chuck Bass was… raw. He'd always been an intense person but at that moment he appeared to her as she'd never seen him before. Intensity and admiration warred on his face.

"Come on," he murmured suddenly, breaking away from her gaze and finally taking it upon himself to dress her. Plus, it gave him something to do, because as it stood he felt half-sick and half-exposed and none of the two felt particularly bearable. Better to busy his hands, even if it meant touching her again.

Christ.

He felt her gaze on him, insistent. If chafed, sort of. It certainly burned. But it wasn't totally _un_enjoyable.

Clearly, he must be a masochist.

Blair raised her arms to help him, the movement raising her small, pert breasts closer to his eye level as he slid the scrap of silk down her slender arms and then down her delicate curves. The material whispered against skin he knew was just as smooth as the silk he couldn't seem to let go of. He literally had to hold himself from looking down and, seriously, wasn't that sudden reticence rich coming from him?

"Thank you," she breathed suddenly, turning her face away shyly. "For… tonight and… everything. It was…"

Chuck could tell she struggled with her words. The best she'd ever had? _So far_, he answered himself. Inexplicably his chest felt too small for him. He gingerly rubbed his chest.

Unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of? Probably, and he was being very humble about it. She could have been with some shotgun incompetent for her first time. Or an incompetent, period. Someone who wouldn't have made sure to please her.

_Trust me, Blair_.

He'd gone there, himself. He'd trusted her, too, hadn't he? Trusted her to take him through several firsts. First time having a girl twice… more than, for that matter. First time letting go. First time with a friend – he'd never see her quite the same way. Would always see a mask when he saw Society Blair with her perfect clothes and perfect curls and sneer and frozen smile.

_Trust me_.

First time those two words had ever come out of his mouth. First time he'd ever taken such a huge risk–

Nate. Shit.

Blair's hesitant stroke on his cheek jolted him and he reacted instinctively, nearly slapping her hand away in the process. "I'm sorry," she stuttered, bewildered, big doe eyes and all. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "I – I thought you – tonight–" She flushed in her confusion.

Chuck had only half the heart to sneer – the other half was too busy reminding him he was alive but possibly not for very long. Unless… but no. No, he liked his private and not-necessarily-private parts intact, thank you very much. "You thought what?" he breathed in his best disaffected but definitely sexually-charged voice. _I don't care, I don't care, I don't care_, was a mantra in his head. If he kept this up, he would be fine. Completely. Totally.

Clenching her jaw at his words, Blair got the message loud and clear, and drew away sharply, scooting as far back against the limousine wall as the seats allowed. "Nothing. I'll walk, thank you."

Chuck didn't get it. He could have let her go and grab the door handle next to her and leave her the hell alone because, fuck this shit, _he didn't care_. Somehow, though, he ended up leaning over her to keep her from pulling that handle.

"What are you doing?" she screeched in his ear, but quickly subsided as she got a good look at his face.

still holding her, he pushed the intercom button, keeping it short and sweet with his chauffeur. "You're not walking," he then growled with fierce finality.

But she had to nip back, didn't she. "Afraid the creatures of the night will get me?" she fairly taunted. Her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Newsflash: been there, done that, tonight even. So you can let me go, I've had my quota."

Chuck snorted. "That's rich, coming from a recently deflowered virgin. Is your appointment book so full already?" Whistling low, he considered clapping but decided against it. She'd bolt, surely, and he wanted to keep her in place for the moment. "I'm impressed, Waldorf." And then he got in her face. "But flattered you chose me first. They say it should be special, the first time, and here I was, ready to oblige and make it amazing."

Blair squirmed under his gaze, averting her eyes only when he got to the last. "Maybe I hated it," she bit out between clenched teeth, attempting to scoot away further.

"Waldorf…" he began patronisingly. She stopped at the menacing tone in his voice. Glared some more. "You came. Several times. You think I can't tell a fake orgasm from a real one?" he said on top of her when she tried to speak. Her mouth hung open like a fish out of water. A disgusted noise escaped him as he tried to drive his point across. "Please. I'm Chuck Bass."

For a moment he could tell he had her stumped. Blinking slowly, she eyed him as if he'd grown two heads on top of his and spoken Martian while dancing a chicken jig. Then a veil fell over her. Her features schooled themselves and she resumed glaring ostensibly as if she were Queen Elizabeth (the fierce virgin one) considering giving him the time of day and having a particular inclination toward a big fat NO. "And I'm Blair Waldorf. You think I care?"

This was what he wanted, he told himself.

"We're here," she grunted at length when he wouldn't fight back. "Now get the hell off me and let me go."

He did.


	4. Awareness, it is Shame

**AWARENESS, IT IS SHAME**

_We'd be so less fragile if we're made from metal, and our hearts from iron  
And our minds from steel, and if we built an armour for our tender bodies  
Could we love each other? Would we stop to feel?_

_– The Pierces, Three Wishes_

Step, after step, after step. Blair woodenly made her way to the elevator, thankful when the doors immediately opened for her. No one stepped in after her. Slouching against the mirror-like wall, her distorted image was reflected back to her. She looked…

_I slept with Chuck Bass_.

She looked the part, too. Felt it. The hot sweep of his fingers seemed imprinted everywhere he'd touched. Which was… everywhere. Her own fingers were sticky from when he'd made her touch herself. So were the insides of her thighs and her slick folds. Her blood still rushed, a dull throb in her veins. Other places pulsed as well, and it fucking shamed her. The whole thing did.

_Whore_, she thought._ You're a bitch in heat the minute you break up with Nate, aren't you?_ Well, at least she'd gone to the right guy, hadn't she? Gone straight to the biggest manwhore in Manhattan who gladly obliged her because, apparently, two whores a right match make. _Serves you right and don't you fucking cry._

Her eyes were dry anyway. Wasn't that a tragedy?

The elevator dinged to the Waldorf penthouse. She got out, the lights off. Everyone was probably asleep. That was that. Step after tiptoed, naked step took her to her bedroom. There, she jerked her damned slip off and slid under her cold sheets. Her bare nipples puckered instantly at the contact and… that was when she cried. No heaving sobs, no sorry sad face, just… tears.

How could she have been so stupid? How could she have taken off her skin and let Chuck, _Chuck_, of all people, see her as she desperately wanted to be seen? She'd known it would be nothing at all to him, just an easy venue since he wouldn't need to go hunting tonight, but just for an instant, those two releases, she'd thought she'd seen…

No. She'd seen nothing. He'd been indulging her and most especially himself and that was it. Hadn't he said, a few weeks ago, that he was – or would be – honoured to be playing even a small role in her deflowering? Well, mission _fucking_ accomplished. He'd taken the matter of plucking her flower into his own hands tonight. And she, the stupid idiot, had thought it had mattered to him. That he'd been careful and… caring… But he'd only been opening the channel, hadn't he? So she'd be ready the next time? If he even bothered with seconds.

Blair frowned, one hand frozen in the task of disentangling her hair. He had, actually. He _had_ bothered with seconds. And… God, his eyes, and his hands… Remembering the heat across and under her skin, Blair shivered. She could have sworn his own shivers had been genuine, but then what did she know of sex?

Just a little, now. Thank to Chuck Bass.

Dammit. She still saw him, heard him, felt him. In her, on her, the smell of him, the harsh angles and the smooth planes. Sensual slashing mouth and hot gliding hands, the moans and the catch in his voice, the raspiness of it. His hard cock snug within her, the quivering muscles in his arms as he thrust in her. And the ecstasy written all over his face as he came, twice. She did sob then, because nothing fucking made sense anymore.

Chuck was a friend. Just. A. Friend. Not even her closest, but among them. Close but at arm's length, unless they were joined at the hip to destroy someone. He was the kind of ally you wanted with you on the dirtiest job. He was a bitch and knew it. Assumed himself, which was fine by her because they were _brilliant_. But apart from that… Her first time should have been with Nate, her sweet, longtime boyfriend. She'd only been waiting forever to be ready, and so had he, and she'd just royally fucked up their chance with his best friend, no less.

Blair rolled onto her side, hugging her knees as close to her chest as she could. The movement of her thighs sliding together only made her more aware of her slick core that pulsated with dulled need.

_Whore. Whore. Whore._

Hot tears landed on her pillow where her head lay. Blair screwed her eyes shut, hating Chuck Bass with all her being for breaking her that way. _This_ was his fault. The shame. The trembling fingers that inched down to the place where she still felt him, still felt his length awakening every nerve ending that he stroked within her.

It wasn't him. It wasn't the same pressure. It wasn't the same at all, but as she pushed two small digits past her folds and smothered a moan, the illusion was enough. His sneer and his words rushed into her mind – _you thought what?_ – as pleasure made her throat tighten and sobs escape it. Through it all, she finally milked her fingers again in wracking convulsions.

When the aftershocks of her climax wore off she collapsed on her back again, feeling… numb. Finally.

_Is your appointment book so full already?_

What right did _he_ have to judge her?

What a fucking asshole.

Tomorrow was a completely different day.


	5. Awareness is Prickling Cold

**AWARENESS IS PRICKLING COLD**

"… and let me go." As quickly as she had growled the words, she'd seemingly shot out into the night. Even as he registered the dull slam of the car door, Chuck felt the night in his skin. Cold. Bitter. All his muscles locked and he shivered before remembering his clothes.

Chuck rummaged on the floor and on the leather seats without quite seeing. No, because he saw the night and a girl-woman as clearly as if it – she – replayed in his –

"Where to, sir?" came his chauffeur's cool, cultivated, ever-unruffled voice over the intercom.

Pants halfway up over his hips and nearly forgotten, Chuck punched a button and snapped a curt response. "Any fucking where." That was that. Frankly, Arthur could drive him to Brooklyn for all he cared. Hypothetically speaking.

The driver obviously possessed enough common sense not to press him for a more straight-forward – or clear – answer. The limousine purred away from the curb and Chuck saw no more of Waldorf's goddamn building.

If only he were mentally blind. And deaf.

Chuck, please…

_Thank you. It was…_

_I thought you – tonight –_

_Maybe I hated it._

_I'm Blair Waldorf. You think I give a shit?_

_Let me go._

Chuck finally yanked his zipper up, a tad more forcefully than was certainly necessary, and jerked his arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Then he just slammed back into his seat, needing to hit something so badly his knuckles whitened from clawing the hard, cold leather with his nails. Maybe scratching something hard enough would feel better. Maybe he wouldn't feel warm hands all over his body and more of the same warmth snug around his cock. Or her eyes touching his skin like a caress…

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." His hair was probably standing even more on end than it had a few minutes ago. Chuck merely intended to claw the thoughts out of his head. Not. Easy.

Moreover, he fucking twitched, but that wasn't even his dick's fault. No, something crawled all over him like a gust of frigid air, though the interior of his limo was properly heated as usual this time of the year. Not to mention, his insides churned like he'd eaten something rancid. No one would get fired, of course, unless there was a new sort of indigestion that acted up almost half a day after a meal. Chuck had a bad feeling it just might be a certain ex-virgin's fault. Bitch.

_Creatures of the night_, indeed.

Bitch. She'd used him. As practise, probably, so she could go back to her golden prince and have an edge she didn't have before – _that's why he didn't want me before_, she probably thought. Of course, Nate wouldn't notice the difference, he never did, but Chuck _would_.

_I don't care_, Chuck repeated to himself doggedly.

He suddenly felt the subtle slowing of the vehicle under him and glanced out the window. The elegant gate and lights of the Palace loomed next to him.

"We're here, sir," the disembodied voice of his chauffeur announced.

'Here' was not what Chuck had asked, but it would do. Chuck slid out without his coat, shirtfront still undone and well crumpled. He would definitely not pass the unofficial admittance test if his last name were not Bass. Even so, the staff on guard and behind the desk wrinkled their noses in reluctant welcome.

Chuck curled his lip just for habit's sake, then stepped into the elevator with a wan but somewhat vindictive smirk. Old habits died hard, but it was such a pleasure. Just not so much tonight.

Tonight he didn't lift a glory finger as the doors slid shut, or make scathing eye contact until it made the middle-aged but definitely face-lifted receptionist, who must have stood there before the damn hotel was built, waver like she always did, only slightly. He always took sick pleasure in pissing her off, just like she did. Drusella sent maids in early, directed booty calls to the wrong suite, sent meals at fucking six in the morning when he didn't ask for them… But tonight he merely punched the button and glared at the emptiness before him.

"_Goodnight_, Mr Bass."

The doors closed on her. Ha. But the satisfaction lasted only a half-second. Goddammit, he needed a shower. Felt _her_ hands on him still, smelled her on him like a bad stink that wouldn't stop clouding him – except _of course_ she smelled like wild honeysuckle. Eighteenth floor couldn't come fast enough.

Chuck caught his reflection in the smooth steel before him at a glance. Dishevelled hair, wrinkled clothes, shirt loose over his smart pants, bow tie and scarf… somewhere in the limo. Fuck it. He didn't want to look for them.

Well, he'd never looked worse. Good news was, his father was… somewhere. With Lily? Halfway round the world? In Timbuktu to invest in whores and/or ventures? He couldn't quite recall, but honestly he didn't care. Really. Would be hell to avoid his reproving father – _You look like you've just tarnished my reputation a little more. By the way, I'm pulling funds on Victrola because I just remembered what a lazy, incapable son I have._

"Like I didn't already know that," Chuck muttered dryly to his reflection. "And how astute of you – yes I have, and I soiled the girl, too. You proud, daddy dearest?"

For mere answer, the elevator dinged and its doors rolled open onto the quiet hallway of suite doors. Chuck dragged his feet over to Suite 1812, wondering not for the first time why Bart had chosen that one in particular. Or perhaps he'd simply flipped a coin. Chuck snort. Wasn't as if he spent half of a year there anyway. More like… a sixth, if even that.

Chuck swiped his key card through the slot like he could slice the lock in two. That would be so gratifying, Chuck thought as he clicked the door open.

The couch looked inviting. So did the wet bar. It was well stashed from Bart's last few days in town. That was one other thing Drusella liked to piss him off with – _Minor_, she said as mere sharp explanation. Not like she had the cupboards emptied when Bart went away, but she simply refused to have empty bottles replaced. So he had to _restrict_ himself, for God's sake, and honestly he had no idea if Bart was even in town anymore so… best to leave the Scotch alone for another occasion.

Right. Shower.

Chuck pulled his shirt off his shoulders, leaving the damn thing lying around – let receptionist from hell's cleaning ladies complain – and marched to his bedroom and the adjoined marble bathroom, flicking on lights as he went.

Spic and span as always.

Actually, a bath looked real inviting. Let him slip and crack his head open for all he cared. Like anyone did.

_Please. I'm Chuck Bass_.

Like that meant anything.

You think I give a shit?

There you go.

_You wanted this_, his mind persisted as he turned knobs, then decided against any cold water. He was cold enough as it was. Discarding the rest of his clothes, Chuck stepped into the filling tub, shivers against the best scalding water Manhattan could offer as he lowered himself in. He felt the burn instantly, and when it reached his testicles Chuck cringed, cupping himself protectively. Too late, though. Still, what a fitting fate. His dad would be happy. Blair would lift a unconcerned eyebrow – _no need for condoms anymore, huh?_

Oh, who was he kidding. Not nearly hot enough, but what could he do?

The bitch danced in his mind.

#

The water was catching up with his skin. Chuck observed his arm with a clinical eye. He still looked like a fresh-boiled lobster even as the water was anything but warm anymore. Just comfortable.

Blair wouldn't get out of his mind.

#

Chuck held his breath, watching the few bubbles dance up to the golden light overhead, hearing muffled nothingness. His hair brushed against his forehead, his skin cocooned in the freezing water. The equivalent of a cold shower, and yet…

Chuck swore bubbles and broke the surface, thoroughly irritated with his chest and his head.

#

Morning and his eyes stung and his skin sported goosebumps.

Beautiful sunrise over the city but then so what?

There had to be a cure for this.

#

He heard the maid rummaging around in his room. Chuck saw her laying out his uniform on his neatly made bed from the slightly open door.

Should have given the _other_ bitch the glory finger so she'd think everything was all right.

She left, and he splashed out naked, nearly slipping when he lost his footing but grabbing hold of the raised side of the tub in time, heart skipping in that split second. Well, no head cracking today, obviously. Gingerly, he grabbed a towel off the rack and wrapped his hips. Looked at himself in the mirror. Perfect. Red eyes, pale face, pink from the chest down, completely wrinkled fingers and toes. Most of all, foggy brain and foggy sight. He squinted.

Coffee, he needed coffee.

Chuck stepped out to find his cell to call room service and saw it, on the tray. _Well I'll be damned._ He lunged.

#

Coffee brought with it clarity.

Oh, she would suffer.


	6. Awareness is to Slight

**AWARENESS IS TO SLIGHT**

_Stop it_, Blair whimpered inwardly to her unruly body the next morning as she showered. And dared not touch down _there_ because, damn her vagina, but it ached, pulsated every so often as though –

Well, she needed to wash, period.

"Sleazy manwhoring motherchucker Basshole from hell," she muttered to herself like a litany as she set to the task, careful to avoid her treacherous clit as much as she could, which was no easy feat. "Fucks every girl within range including, yes, _me_, and then throws them away like dirty rags. You fucker. You goddamn _fuck_–"

Her tirade was cut short when she inadvertently brushed her hard nub. Squeezing her eyes shut and her legs together, Blair let the wave of pleasure pass. Only then did she dare breathe again. "Damn you," she hissed to the thing. "Can't even shower in peace. Get over yourself."

So she'd been well-fucked. So what? The guy had ended the night being every bit the jerk he'd always been. She'd only thought… Oh, what did it matter?

God, she'd had sex. With someone other than her boyfriend. Nevermind the fact that Nate wasn't her boyfriend anymore. But it should have been him. It would have been… Gosh, this amounted to something pretty close to adultery.

Blair shut the tap with a resounding metallic clang that continued to ring in her ears for some time before the all-too-familiar urge to –

Crashing out of the pristine shower stall, Blair nearly tripped over her own feet on the wet tiles as she reached the toilet. There, the dry heaves began, her gut screaming and her body trembling as sobs racked her body in great waves.

_What is _wrong_ with me?_ she thought between two sharp breaths. _This is not me. Sex should be… sex should be…_

Oh God…

#

Indeed. Oh God.

As if she even believed in a God that had allowed the travesty of last night. Throwing her at the worst of wrong guys? Right. He'd really been laughing in His cape. Or, like, robes. Or whatever God wore in the clouds.

The sun caressing the few available inches of her skin, Blair stood before Holy Trinity Church, eyeing it from cross to ground. Well. She might not be religious but, inexplicably, churches never failed to draw her attention and awe her. Perhaps it was their majesty. Maybe the mysticism. The quiet. Who knew, but Blair, in looking at the stained glass windows before her, drew courage from deep within herself and squared her shoulders before ascending the steps.

Dipping her finger in holy water, Blair crossed herself like she'd been taught, her eyes finding the statue of the Virgin Mary with her glowing red heart. Then she found an empty confessional and gathered her thoughts.

"Good morning," a deep, wise voice suddenly jarred her as the priest took a seat on the other side of the screen.

No time like now to be strong. "Forgive me Father for I've sinned."

#

Drusella got treated to a sneer on his way out. There was a lightness to his step, a spring even. Regardless of the fact that he hadn't slept a wink all night, Chuck felt oddly refreshed. Jovial. He contemplated wishing passers-by a good day, because he knew he'd have a tremendously _fun_ one. Hello, torture.

But no, "have a good day" did not cross his lips. He didn't want to jinx it. Ha, he couldn't wait to make the frigid bitch whimper. Ducking his head, Chuck slipped into the waiting limousine – one of the perks of having a mostly absent father – and immediately spotted it. Froze.

Shit. She'd forgotten it in here.

Chuck belatedly registered pain and with some surprise, realised it came from his clenched knuckles. Slamming the door shut, Chuck sat against it, barely hearing the rumble of the moving vehicle under him. He stared at the offending object with a growing scowl.

Dammit. Couldn't be helped. Picking it up with idle fingers, Chuck instantly saw a tumble of rich chocolate curls between his fingers in his mind's eye. Her hair had smelled… like the rest of her. Honeysuckle. The scent still lingered in the air, very faintly but…

He brought the headband closer to his nose. Closed his eyes. Then closed a tight fist around it.

_Let me go._

Chuck pushed the button to open the partition. "Let's wander around a bit."

#

"Mister Bass, I see Miss Waldorf exiting church. Would you like me to stop?"

Blair _where?_ "Yes." Chuck strained to see out his window but saw only a mid-meno woman who obviously never learned how to walk in heels. Scooting to the other side as the limo slowed, he then saw her on the opposite sidewalk as she reached it. No headband, dark curls bouncing with each of her confident strides. She wore black all over as though she was mourning someone – some_thing_ like her virginity, most likely – and clutching a mourning veil in her hand.

How… peculiar.

Chuck rolled down his window and inwardly snorted when he arrived at level with her. The veil was in her hand because she had traded them for – how very Blair – black shades. She'd cleansed her soul of her sin but that didn't mean she had to become the equivalent of an unfashionable nun outside of religious situations.

And she was definitely _not_ a nun.

"Well this is the _last_ place I'd expect to find you," he teased cheerfully enough, finding his good mood had just exponentially expanded upon sight of her.

Was it just him or had she just winced at the sound of his voice? Annoyance soon replaced her trepidation. "Go _away,_ Chuck. I've been given orders practically from God Himself to avoid you."

And since when had anyone listened when someone when told not to look down a cliff? "Would you consider avoiding me over breakfast?" he shot out with a grin as he stroked a thumb over the headband in his loose fist.

He practically heard the _Are you stupid?_ her expression plainly said. She made it so easy to unsettle her. "Sorry," she said peevishly, "but as is tradition on the day before my birthday, I'm heading to the jeweller's to put some pieces on hold for Eleanor and–"

"Nate?" His thumb stilled even as his taunting grin deepened, hurting his cheeks. "Oh, I don't think he'll be singing happy birthday this year." As if he ever did of his own initiative.

"No one knows that Nate and I broke up," she snapped, "and it's going to stay that way so I can _fix_ this." Then her eyes hardened beyond steel as she went in for the kill. Christ, she knew him too well, and that was scary. "And I don't think your best friend would still be your best friend if he _knew_-"

_Hey there, girl, it takes two to tango._ Blair was just as guilty as him in this. "If he knew how much I enjoyed the removal of a certain chastity belt in the back of this very limo?" On this very seat, as a matter of fact, Chuck realised as pieces of memories assailed him.

Blair's face fell as she stopped, turning to him with a vulnerability and yet determination that unsettled him. The pounding in his chest dulled painfully as he realised he was… Nate had no idea what he had. _No_ idea.

She stepped infinitesimally closer, pegging him with all that strength and pain. Mostly pain, and regret, and guilt. Oh yes, guilt, even as her eyes lit on his lips for but a second. "From this moment forward," she said, her voice tremulous and higher than usual, "the events of last night will never be mentioned again. Is that clear?" Her voice actually shook at the end, shaking Chuck in turn before he refocused again.

Yeah, like he could forget. "Not as clear as the memory of you purring in my ear, which I have been replaying _over_ and _over_…" much to his chagrin and disgust – in himself.

Blair's eyes slammed to a space just next to his ear as her cheeks flushed. "Well erase the tape!" she fairly shrieked. "Because as far as I'm concerned it never happened."

Perhaps he would have believed her had she actually been able to meet his gaze. But she didn't. and so without thinking he growled, "I'll see you at your party tonight." Because the plan still stood. He'd make the bitch pay for jerking him around.

But she wasn't done, and raw fear and frustration radiated from her in droves. "You're officially _un_invited!" she shot back, stalking off without a backward glance, leaving him to grind his teeth in frustration.

Perhaps in her perfect fantasies things always went according to her script. Maybe in her perfect world a tape could be destroyed, but in Chuck _and_ Blair's world, Chuck Bass was _not_ Blair Waldorf's lapdog.

"Never stopped me before!" He saw her flinch despite the growing distance.

Washington, Obama and company - better known as American History - would have to wait. He had an errand to run.


	7. Awareness is More Than a Memory

**AWARENESS IS MORE THAN A MEMORY**

How many times had he perused this store over the years? Nine. Once a year, year after year, he coached and counselled Blair-stupid Nathaniel Archibald. This time… Chuck would have the final word – not that he'd never had it but then Nate _could_ have chosen something else after all as he was not his boss. But the fact was, it was enough to send Chuck straight into freaky doubts he'd never had before.

With every piece he paused, drummed his fingers over the glass case. The first three times ever-helpful, smiling clerks approached, key in hand. Then they just took to sniffing in irritation and grinding their teeth. It only half-amused Chuck, but then he'd remind himself to get back to business…

What would she like?

Before, he'd been a detached party and it had been easier to instinctively know what she would have put on hold – because that was the game, sniffing until he got jackpot, the one piece she was truly head over heels for. Blair had been easy to figure out, no strings attached. Sweet, vindictive, a joy to spar with. Innocent. Hopes and dreams that amused but didn't touch him overlong. Now? Soft, feisty, sexy, fun. Beautiful. The waters totally blurred since last night because he'd glimpsed someone else entirely.

Chuck's lids drooped closed as he saw her in his mind's eye, as he'd seen her the previous night: small, pert breasts; doll face with a heavy drape of chocolate curls; lush hips; full ass. And sweet, sweet heat surrounding him snugly as he felt every texture of her…

"Young man," a thin, nasal voice suddenly interrupted the play of images in his head, "would you like to see this one?"

Chuck reeled woozily as his eyes snapped open – _whoa, head, do not meet floor_ – and he blinked, focusing straining eyes on the necklace before him. His fingers did their annoying thing again, and the ghostly image in his mind reclined, necklace around her throat.

The drumming redoubled.

Heavy-lidded eyes stared back at him with the soft, vulnerable expression she'd graced him with last night. The Ericksson Beamon gleamed around her delicate throat, cool platinum lilies raising goosebumps along pale skin and peaked, dusky nipples begging to be kissed and licked.

"Yes," Chuck managed through it all, and it came out in an embarrassing choked croak.

The next thing he knew, he was plucking the necklace out of its long velvet-lined box.

"Your girlfriend will be very pleased."

The bubble burst. He shoved the piece back in and snapped the lid shut. "She's not my girlfriend." And he would do well to remember that she was a conniving little bitch.

A profusion of murmured apologies rained out of the suddenly mortified clerk.

"Whatever," Chuck interrupted with a scowl, "I'll take it."

#

The rest of the day was a throbbing blur for Blair. Legitimate bathroom breaks sucked – _why_ were girls "gifted" with the absolutely infuriating need to wipe themselves so they didn't dribble down their legs? Not that she'd care for male genitalia, but the saying about desperate times certainly seemed a very nice excuse to wish for a piece of _muscle_ that didn't absolutely require wiping. Still, though, ew.

Blair suffered the rest of the day with squeezed legs – more so than usual – and a good running mental chant – _God give me strength if, you know, you don't care that I don't believe in you_. Ergo, she missed four classes in mind but not in body. Well. As long as she succeeded in _not_ thinking of a certain sleazy slimeball.

Well shit. That was number twenty. Or more. She'd lost count. Clearly this method was laughable and useless.

Hadn't God supposedly cleansed her? Big Man was certainly withholding his miracles.

#

Chuck found it amusing that she ignored him at lunch.

"I think she's still pissed at me," lightbulb beside Chuck hedged a bit hesitantly as they lounged at their usual table… right across from Ice Queen herself who spared them no amount of disdain.

Chuck gave a telling snort at his friend. "Someone hand him a degree, I think he just broke the gulf between the sexes."

Nate's eyebrows bunched together. "Hey."

"What."

Hunching into himself, Nate bit a crunching hunk of his apple, talking around a mouthful. "It's just… it was such a fusterfuck last night–"

Check let that one pass without friendly derision.

"– and completely weird. Like, since when is a relationship a business deal?"

Chuck shrugged. Nate had filled him in earlier – after he'd had a whole forty-five minutes of sleep – on the _clusterfuck_ of the Captain-Eleanor business security deal and it did fill in all the gaps Blair's heavy silence last night had dug. As well as her need to spiral and shake her worries away. "Arranged marriages are hardly a novelty, my naïve friend," Chuck patronised, mostly to fill the silence in their conversation.

His friend turned to him with disbelieving saucer eyes and half-grin. "You game for that stuff? You, Chuck Bass?"

"If I marry it'll be for money. Pity I'm rich like Croesus, right?" In other words, never in a million years.

"So that's a no?"

"That's a no," Chuck agreed.

A speculative light gleamed into the blond's eyes. "I'll be the one rolling my ass off on the floor when a girl proves you wrong."

Chuck rolled his eyes and groaned. "I hope you brought a book."

The idiot was laughing instead, then tried to sober up but couldn't, so the serious nature of his next words sounded utterly ridiculous coming out of his mouth. Not that they'd not have been in other circumstances. "Oh come on, the infamous Chuck Bass must have a soulmate out there. God have mercy on her," he added under his breath a little too loudly.

Chuck gaped a moment, speechless, then blurted the first thing that popped unhelpfully into his head. "Are you gay?" Ah yes, dodging the subject, a truly helpful verbal tool. And then he said, "I don't _do_ love, you sad romantic freak. I do girls." And still he added more, as he forced his trademark sneer onto his face. "In what creepy fantasy is Blair your soulmate anyway? You just got archiburned, Archibald."

Nate flushed almost instantly. It was a rather endearing sight, really. "I never said–" he started, then shut his mouth for good.

Good. Because Chuck knew his friend would have been about to reveal some rather incriminating information that was pretty much old news to Chuck himself.

Nate and Serena, sitting in a bar. They kind of both enjoyed doing the dirty.

#

"Katy? Katy!" Blair scowled and marched into the girl's brother's home away from Hong Kong. "Did I not tell you it was my birthday? Where are you and why is this place not ready? KATY!" The screech nearly split her own ears.

From a room down a long hallway came shuffling sounds. Iz scurried away from the bathroom to the suddenly flushing sound of the toiler and toward the immaculate kitchen. Surely she hadn't… ah, but she was washing her hands now. _Note to self: have someone decontaminate the washroom doorknob because Isabelle Coates is a dirty spazz._

Finally Katy's feet emerged, carton boxes balanced high in her arms to let only the top of her head show, forehead flushed and hair in a wild disarray. "Be right back, my brother is a slob."

Ergo, the kitchen was clearly not his domain.

This led to an awkward tête-à-tête with Iz, who had shut the tap and now moved toward the paper-strewn living-room. "Don't forget the balloons," Blair said to fill the silence.

"Oh is that what you're wearing tonight?" Iz suddenly exploded on a wild tangent. "You look so–"

Blair unconsciously smoothed the soft tulle skirt of her dress down. "I know. Now shoo."

In the meantime, Blair would hie herself to the bedroom Katy had just cleaned and get a badly-needed nap. Waldorfs did not do such things but surely desperate times called for desperate shut-eye.

#

Dammit, he _would_ come tonight, wouldn't he? Bass of the lowest turds would so enjoy making her squirm for all the wrong – not that kind – reasons. Make her lash out and want to maim his smirking knowing face till maybe she forgot exactly why she'd had sex with him in the first place. Twice. Not that there _was_ a reason – seriously, what was the matter with her that she couldn't wait for Nate?

Blair's hands shook as she brought them to her face. Oh God, would he call? He'd never missed a birthday call. She'd rung Bergdorf's after school and been informed that someone had indeed picked up the necklace she'd been coveting especially, but she'd categorically refused to allow herself to ask the clerk the burning question – who?

Hope bloomed strong in her chest, heating her heart. _He loves me_.

#

He loves me _not_, it turned out.

Reality crashed in on her in one disorienting sucker punch, her legs wanting to crumble under her, despair squeezing her chest tight and her breaths coming in short. _What will I do?_ Blair thought, staring at the dark screen of her cellphone and willing it to ring or at least light up with a text. No such luck.

"Twelve oh one. I'm sorry," a familiar voice and not-so-distant touch slid against her, reminding her of her earlier deal with the devil. _Care to make a wager? If he calls, I'll leave you alone forever_. But Nate hadn't, and so here she was. _If he doesn't, you spend the night with me_.

His apology sounded scarily sincere, oddly enough, and that was more than she could handle at the moment. Last night came barreling back at her. _You thought what?_ And the crude language. The barely veiled insult. Chuck could not be trusted, ever. "No, you're smarmy," she said, restraining the wobble in her voice with an iron fist. "There's a difference. If you're coming to collect, you can forget it." Shame. Devastation. Loneliness. They weighed down on her, so, so heavy. Blair contemplated getting lost in them and never finding her way back.

But Chuck had other plans; he reeled her back in. "Turn around."

Oh, what a dirty ass. Blair curled her lip in distaste. "You get grosser by the second."

Surprising her – he should have hooked onto the "invitation" to lay it on thick – he merely sighed a long-suffering one, pointing beyond her. "You get older. Look."

Birthday cheers passed right over her head. "Make a wish, Blair!" So did her blond friend's stupid request.

She stared at the beautiful concoction she'd picked out herself for a moment, heat burning her throat and her eyes. "It already didn't come true," she nearly blubbered in front of them all – they would talk, the bunch of them – before pushing her way to fresh air. Oh God, she was truly falling apart at the seams.

#

_Happy Birthday, B!_

The email enclosed a picture, and Chuck nearly rolled his eyes in disgust. Typical. And then Blair edged into the room. How he knew… but he looked up, and froze at the look on her face, phone forgotten in his hand. He heard nothing as he noted the drawn, tragic lines of her subtly blotched face. If the tears hadn't come, they soon would and… his chest tightened and tugged painfully at the thought.

It shouldn't, he reminded himself sternly. Despite Nate's bimbette-magnet syndrome and its affect on her, Blair didn't deserve his sympathy. Yet when she finally walked away with tears well and truly pooling in her eyes, he… didn't follow her quiet yet.

Couldn't call him a stalker this time. He simply knew where to find her once he… where was it… ah…


	8. Awareness is a Tender Gift

**AWARENESS IS A TENDER GIFT**

Chuck steeled himself, taking a deep breath, before grabbing the doorknob and twisting. The door slowly swung open before him, revealing Blair laying in fœtal position on the lavishly laid bed. Her face, though, that was what had him clutching the knob a little tighter.

Blair Waldorf should never be so unhappy, he decided on the spot.

But his little fighter straightened upon the bed, shooting a glacial near-glare his way. Underneath the veneer, though, he saw the vulnerability she hid within. "I'm not in the mood, Chuck." As she pulled at the rich sheets beneath her fingers, he could tell it was an unconscious action. "It's pretty much the worst birthday ever."

"Maybe it can be salvaged," Chuck said as he stepped inside the room at last, shutting the door behind him and slowly revealing the box he had been hiding behind his back all the while. Proffering it, he sat near her.

He could almost feel her flushing as she carefully averted her face. "Is that our sex tape?" she said with an inordinately fake amount of cynicism.

As Chuck cracked open the flat velvet box to her widening eyes, he felt… pride, so much pride. _What would she like?_

She would like what she wanted most.

"It's the Ericksson Beamon necklace," Blair stated needlessly, in a breath that felt so cramped it was a wonder she wasn't choking on the words. Looking up, she found Chuck smiling one of those rare sweet smiles that she'd only discovered last night. He took out the magnificent piece of jewelry, looking for all the world like he wanted her to wear it. "No, I couldn't." _Oh my God_.

"Yes, you can." His voice sounded so unlike his fierce life-battling one, so… calm, unguarded, as he leaned forward to clasp the delicate thing around her throat.

The necklace felt cool, biting, upon first touch. Blair felt her skin tighten, her nipples peak unexpectedly, her breaths come faster. As Chuck artfully arranged the tiny lilies in a perfect circle against her skin, she glanced up at their reflection in the dressing mirror nearby and… God, Chuck was being so awfully gentle, so genuine… taking care of her…

_Let me go_, she nearly whimpered in her confusion, yet all she really wanted was to cling to him till she couldn't bear to hold on anymore.

She opted for staying right where she was, frozen, loving the feel of his fingers on her skin, afraid he'd take them away if she moved, wanting to take them away all the same, and looked away, flustered. What did she want?

She felt his gaze in the mirror, his expression still just as open as before, and she felt… privileged… jealous… Shaking her head, Blair forced herself to dislike him.

"Something this beautiful," Chuck began earnestly, quietly – Chuck was not a quiet one, "deserves to be seen on someone worthy of its beauty."

His words inexplicably brought fresh tears to her eyes, clutched at her throat, and she was rendered speechless. _It'll be fine, baby_, he'd said.

Adding to her inner pandemonium, he added, "I really am sorry."

That genuine apology, like everything else, again. It pulled at her, so much warmth fusing in her chest. Touching his warmed present with feeling-unfeeling fingertips, she felt him gaze at her, at the necklace around her throat, at the beauty around her. When he plucked at another lily that needed no straightening at all, she caught his hand lightly… felt his mouth press softly on her shoulder… then on her mouth… sweetly, just sweetly. Blair wanted to cry.

… _you spend the night with me…_

Chuck's kisses expected nothing, yet as they grew deeper, Blair experienced a keen need for him… more than she'd ever needed anyone's tenderness before.

#

She was kissing him back. There were so many moments when she could have said no. Could have scoffed at that fair bit of inspiration that had had him suddenly sprouting pretty words out loud. That had _definitely_ not been planned. Could have thrown him on his ass with his necklace. Could have smacked him silly for assuming she would let him kiss her in the first place. He supposed he should feel lucky none of that had happened, but frankly he was just too busy feeling as if he should pinch and smack himself back into the Plan of destroying Blair Waldorf.

"Chuck…"

She was _kissing _him back. Her hand was buried in his hair, holding him in place, and she wasn't going anywhere. Her breaths filled his ears. She was pressing her body against his.

He should have stopped and cleared his head somehow.

Could have, for sure, at some point before she stretched into him, cradled him between her legs, bit his lip, and unbuttoned his priceless dress shirt.

No, he was done for afterward.

Her mouth was hungry on him, her eyes were bright, her fingers nimble and possessive. Chuck leaned up and captured her mouth with his, flipping them over so he was on top. There, he began a slow, driving rhythm against her despite their layers of clothing. If anything, the friction made it all the more maddening.

"Chuck…"

He moved so that he could stir her hair with a breath, and pushed a dark strap off her creamy shoulder. When he spoke, he knew his words would land like a caress on her skin. "Spend the night with me," he murmured into her ear, shuddering as she closed her legs around him.

Feeling her moan wash through her was one of the most erotic things he'd ever experienced.

"Please," he said, barely aware of anything but her.

For mere answer, Blair pulled his dress shirt out of his pants, and he pulled back to find her smouldering eyes locked on his and tiny, dainty fingers taking care with every button. When she was done and had slid his open shirt off his shoulders, Blair smiled into his eyes and accepted his kiss. "It's _my_ birthday, you know," she teased suddenly as she pulled away, almost condescending.

"It is," he agreed, and wondered at her next move. Would she up and leave him high and dry – _I've proved my theory that you'll have sex with anything that moves_. Or would she–

Sink her nails into his back and lick his nipple? That she did.

"It's _my_ day and _my_ night, right?"

"Uh… huh," he uttered with difficulty. Difficult, when all the blood in his head went to his… other head.

She scratched.

Oh _God_, she scratched.

Moaning and arching into her, Chuck barely heard her next words. "I still think you're a bastard." But then she stroked down his chest, tenderly dipping down and into his pants. "But…" There, her hands trembled, and he looked up feverishly, finding her biting her lip, her lashes brushing her cheeks. "Thank you for… for the necklace. It's beautiful."

Suddenly Chuck found the room much smaller than it ought to feel. "You're… you're welcome," he choked out hoarsely. Reaching up to stroke a lily, he thought _more than_. Swallowing as her eyes met his, he quietly added, "I knew you'd love it. You'd be worthy of it."

Her eyes searched his a moment, unbelieving, he knew. For that, he wanted to punch anyone who'd ever made her doubt her own fine features, that cute upturned nose, that doll-like face, those doe-like eyes, that rich chocolate hair that went on forever… His hand drifting down, he found the zipper on her dress, at her side, and tugged it down. He kissed each inch of skin he exposed, and peeled the dress from her, covering her again once he was done. She sighed, welcoming him.

"I don't get you, Chuck," she whispered suddenly in the silence as he idly traced the contour of a breast in slowly decreasing circles.

Glancing up, Chuck frowned and stopped what he was doing. "What do you mean?"

Blair bit her lip, then averted her face, and he knew he'd somehow hurt her along the way. "You have sex with me, then tell me off. You ignore me. You buy me this." She touched the gleaming platinum thoughtfully. "And here we are, naked again." She locked eyes with him and almost unconsciously stroked his leg with hers – but she had to be aware of the sensation. "I just don't get it. why, Chuck?"

What exactly could he answer to that? If he had to be completely honest with himself, this wasn't even about a bet or revenge anymore. This arousal wasn't about playing the all-time best porn on a loop in his mind. She fit him like a glove, inside and out, plain and simple. It was the _only _reason she affected him like this. "I don't…" He cleared his throat, utterly frozen before her, but whatever he'd meant to say he couldn't recall anymore.

"I _hated_ you," Blair whispered, her eyes pleading with him for something he couldn't understand. "You treated me like…" _a goddess_ "God, I actually thought… but then…" _I insulted her_ "and now…" _I want to be inside her again, just once more_. She sobered, any remnant of emotion gone from her features. Dignity infused her voice despite their advanced states of undress and the proximity of their lower bodies. "I'm not supposed to be with you."

"I know," Chuck replied dully. Not in a million years would he have envisioned being not once, not twice, but possibly three times with Blair Waldorf who belonged to his best friend, Prince Golden Fucking Charming.

He wasn't jealous. Not at all. Just… this was a novelty, the repeat performances, and besides he'd never liked sharing what pleased him.

"I don't love you," she stated firmly, as firm as she could, so he could understand perfectly her meaning.

_I don't love you either_, he was supposed to say. Chuck settled for nodding since his voice had gone on a vacation and she seemed to expect some kind of response.

"I don't even like you," she resumed, then amended quickly, "I mean, not that way. Not a friend."

"An ally," he supplied, helpful though he felt like something had kicked the shit out of him.

She seemed relieved at his choice of words, and repeated, "An ally. Who deflowered." She nodded.

He felt the need to clarify. "Last night." Lest she had forgotten after her holy trip.

She exhaled a nervous chuckle. "Seems so long ago."

"Right," Chuck murmured, toying with one of her pert breasts with a digit. "I just haven't slept since."

Conversationally – though Chuck could still detect tremulous awkwardness in her speech – she whispered, "Must have been the champagne."

Smiling lopsidedly at her little joke, Chuck bent to taste the bud. As she sighed, relaxing beneath his touch, he began rubbing intimately against her, and then leaned up to whisper, "How about an arrangement, Waldorf?"

She purred, and he knew she was smiling right then without even needing to see her face. God, he knew her purr inside and out. "What sort of arrangement, Bass?"

Chuck flipped them over, delighting in her little gasp of pleasure when he pushed up to penetrate her. Pumping once or twice, he smirked when she moaned the loss of friction. Felt her tight walls contract even tighter around him in irritation after a moment since he held her immobile over him. Chuck sat up, bringing their chests flush, and set her loose on him, but not before whispering wickedly, "You know exactly what sort."


End file.
